The boat is like
an electrical wire
It hums
There is a wire also
on the horizon
a fuzzy white line
that marks the place
where sea meets land
or nothingness
Those broken shards again
some so old
they’ve almost become sky
What is comforting
in this passage
between two points?
The hum
with its regular crescendo
(the boat’s heartbeat)
knowing you are in the hands
of something bigger
which will still be here
tomorrow
plying the same route
the movement
and stillness
all in one
the dots of light
that reflect off the surface
like static
the cast-iron shadows
so well defined
the shadow of the thing
is clearer
easier to see
than reality
but I wouldn’t try
to hold on
The being on the way
in between brackets
that place in language
away from grand statements
where life is best lived
Thursday, 2 pm
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